


Dark World

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Wilbur Soot - Fandom
Genre: Blop deserved better, Bows & Arrows, Broken Promises, Character Death, Cruel God, Darkness, Defiance, Dirt - Freeform, Duelling, Fights, God Complex, Mind Games, Mole People - Freeform, Oreli is a tragic hero, Suicide, Swords, Trauma, Underground Civilization, Wilbur you dirty crime boy, Won't give in, cruel world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Oreli lives in a dark world with the other moleish people of his community. Digging around all day, trying to make homes out of nothing, and suffering under the presence of a sick and cruel god. He only has one person in his life who gives him hope for something better. And he'll be damned if he's not going down fighting after that person is taken away from him.~Go watch Wilbur Soot on YouTube and Twitch~
Comments: 24
Kudos: 150
Collections: Anonymous





	Dark World

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I had to write this because I was shaking with inspiration. That's all. Watch Wilbur Soot. And hello fellow Wilbur Soot fans. I hope you enjoyed this moment in Wilbur Soot history.
> 
> This story is dark and twisted but so is the dirty crime boy, so who REALLY made the story dark, huh?
> 
> Also only making this explicit because I like the red color better than the orange color.

The world was and always would be dark. Oreli knew that. In the world in which he lived, there was no sunshine and there was no peace. Forced underground by the cruel deity that the humble moleish people referred to as “God,” or “Wilbur” in some cases, and barely able to see but two meters in front of his face, Oreli lived in this darkness. Was born in it, grew up in it. Adapted to it.

It wasn’t hard, at first. All he’d needed to do was to dig and build, like the citizens around him did so frequently. It helped that their “god” had been “merciful” enough to offer them tools to complete such a task, but even then things could break and be used no more. But it still wasn’t hard. He made do. And he wasn’t alone.

“I’m back,” a voice rang out through the hollow dirty tunnel in which he’d made himself a home. He turned toward the sound, ceasing the work he was doing on their handmade couch. It was arguably the most used piece of furniture in his home, so it had to undergo repairs quite often. It was made of dirt, after all.

Once his eyes met a familiar face, he smiled. He rarely did, but the presence of his friend never failed to put a smile on his face. Endersaltz. The only friend he’d ever had in this hellhole, and the only thing that seemed to make his miserable life worth living. For that he’d be eternally grateful. So he’d continue to smile. Even if it wasn’t visible behind his mask. He reached out a hand to pull them into a hug.

“Welcome back,” he murmured to them, his voice barely above a whisper. He could barely remember what it felt like to talk. It was always so silent down in the tunnels. If it weren’t for Endersaltz, he almost fears he’d never talk again.

Endersaltz pulled away, a similar smile wrapped around their face. Their eyes left Oreli’s and landed on the couch, amusement beginning to show in the way their eyes crinkled at the sight. “You been hard at work, I see. Bored with me away for so long?”

“You have no idea,” Oreli remarked, going to sit on the couch he’d been working on. “Do you know how hard it is trying to strike up a conversation with a dirt wall?”

Endersaltz let out a chuckle, “Have we been living in the same world, or are you new here?” They came to take a seat beside Oreli, who shrugged and leaned back. He could feel the dirt digging into his clothes. They were irreversibly dirty, he knew. But the water on the surface wasn’t worth the climb. Endersaltz, on the other hand..

“Did you find any food on the surface,” Oreli asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye towards his friend. He could see their pleased smile tighten into what he could only understand was frustration, annoyance, and the feeling of giving up. He knew those emotions all too well. He didn’t even need to know the answer, he already knew.

Nevertheless, Endersaltz shook their head, turning in his direction. “None, I’m afraid. But I did get a good shower in?” As Oreli had suspected.

Oreli sighed and shrugged again. Another dirt soup seemed to be in their future.

The silence of the tunnel was interrupted by the faint and far away laughter of someone they recognized all too well. They could only assume something truly sadistic had occurred just a few feet away from them. Oreli suppressed a shudder at the thought. Only one being could find the strength to be happy in this hell.

That god, Wilbur, and his sick tricks always seemed to be, thankfully, just a few feet out of reach from the pair. Not that they were complaining, of course. If it had to happen, they’d rather it be near them than to them. But it didn’t change the fact that it shook them to their core and made them fear for their lives just as much as the other weak inhabitants of Wilbur’s cruel world. But in the end, they were still alive.

Oreli could feel fire bubble under his skin imagining the face of the god of his small world. He’d only seen it once before, Wilbur’s sick smile, but just thinking about it was enough to set him on edge. Their community had already started off small, just under a hundred citizens trying to create a better life for themselves. But over only the course of a few years, Wilbur had managed to whittle them down to less than half of their population. And the people were powerless to his reign. But he knew that.

Wilbur was aware of the power he held over his people’s minds. He’d use it for his own pleasure. Watching with a sick grin as his subjects plummeted towards their death or slayed their own kind to seek some sort of life that was better than their own. He’d even taken a few of the subjects and trapped them in inescapable cages, unable to move other than to spin in a circle or look up at the inevitability of their freedom being taken from them. Oreli and Endersaltz hadn’t been reduced to that, thank anything other than god, but it was only a matter of time.

They knew Wilbur wouldn’t stop until the last of his kind were rid of.

Oreli knew in his heart that he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

A few specks of loose dirt falling from their ceiling pulled Oreli out of his own mind as a mole passed over their house. Possibly running from something. They were going too fast.

“Hey Ore,” Ender spoke up, looking up at the ceiling just as he had when his thoughts were interrupted, “if Wilbur kills us-”

“ _ When _ Wilbur kills us,” he couldn’t help but interrupt.

Endersaltz gave him another stiff smile. “When Wilbur kills us, will you stay with me in the afterlife?”

Oreli stared at his friend. Since when had they had such profound and sick thoughts? He’d always seen them as the optimist. Always certain they’d find something to eat other than the corpses of their fallen comrades. Always willing to risk going to the surface for a bath even if it could potentially get them killed. Asking Oreli about the afterlife? What kind of mind game was this?

“Why do you ask that?” Oreli crossed his legs under him and leaned forward, suddenly worried. “Did Wilbur say something to you?”

Endersaltz hummed, shaking their head. “Just wondering. It’s bound to happen at some point, right? Might as well talk about it while we’re still alive.”

Oreli was silent for what seemed like an eternity He couldn’t believe his ears. They were right but… but…

He placed his hands on his friend’s shoulder, grabbing their full attention as he stared them in the eyes, a look of defiance on his face. “We’re not going to let him kill us like that,” he breathed. “We’ll… we’ll go together. And then we’ll be together, right?”

Endersaltz’s face lit up. “Go.. together?”

Oreli could feel something of a hopeful smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah. You and me. We’ll kill ourselves together. We’ll die in each other’s arms. So that we can really go to the afterlife together. Wouldn’t that be better?” He’d never considered it before, killing himself. He always thought he’d go down with determination. But he couldn’t stand the dead look in Ender’s eyes as they’d asked him to go with them. He couldn’t let them be alone. Not now, not ever. He gave their shoulders a squeeze. “Right?”

Endersaltze gazed at him, then smiled. “Right.” They pulled him in for a hug and he let them. As long as they were together, he could never be unhappy. “Promise?”

He paused.

“I promise.”

Promise?

I promise.

_ Promise? _

Those same words echoed in Oreli’s head as he woke up to the fourth day in a row that Endersaltz hadn’t come home. They’d gone out to find something for them, they had been starving for what felt like forever, but they had yet to come back. Oreli’s mind could only think of the worst as he sat up in his bed of dirt, straining to hear the sound of Endersaltz preparing them their long awaited meal that he knew wasn’t there.  _ I promise _ .

His fist flew out towards the wall beside him, then his other fist, then again, then again. Until he was punching a hole right through the wall as if he had been digging with his hands. And yet he couldn’t stop. Even as his fists grew bloody, even as his arms started to burn with the power it took to move his weak muscles.

_ I promise. _

Even as his mind clouded over with memories and his sight grew blurry with tears. Even as a scream threatened to rip itself from his throat a million times over and his chest burned with fury and a deep emptiness that reached itself out from deep within his soul.

Even as the laughter of the cursed god bubbled up from somewhere deep within the tunnels. Oreli continued to punch.

Promise?

_ I promise _ .

\--

It had been weeks since Oreli last saw his friend. Even now he couldn’t quite accept that Ender was gone. The only soul in these hell holes that had managed to understand and stay with him throughout all the hardships they’d faced. Gone in a heartbeat. He still wanted to believe that if he waited at home long enough, they’d arrive carrying stacks of carrots and a wide, lovable smile on their face. It’d be a miracle. But miracles didn’t happen in this world. Oreli’s jaw tightened as he crunched down on a particularly hard piece of dirt.

He’d gathered what’d happened from the people nearby who’d either heard or seen it happen. Oreli was killed by the cruel god, as was common. Murdered in yet another mind game he’d decided to play on a helpless victim. And right after he’d made his promise to Endersaltz. Right after he’d  _ promised _ .

To say he was furious was an understatement.

Every breath he breathed felt like hellfire in his lungs being exhaled out unto the world. Every time he moved, his muscles burned to drive a dagger into Wilbur’s chest. Every step he took had him trembling in rage at the merciless acts of their horrid god. He wanted revenge. He wanted more than revenge. He wanted justice.

However, he was, understandably… more than little surprised and frightened at having Wilbur descend from the ceiling during one of his many fits of rage on the couch.

Of all the things he’d remembered Wilbur to look like, a smiling, handsome god of a man was not one of them. Although it suited him, oddly enough. Not that it was a good thing, though.

“Oh!” Wilbur called out as he planted his wide feet onto the table below him. “Oh..! Oreli!” he called, as if calling out to an old friend across the street. Oreli stilled in his place. He was.. terrified..

“Lmao who did this and what is this?” Wilbur chuckled, hopping off of the table and coming towards Oreli as the boy darted off of his couch and took a few steps back. “Tell me,” he continued. “Tell me what it is.”

Oreli gulped, not knowing what to say. Of all the ways he thought their encounter would go, this wasn’t one of them. He had heard only rumors of how ruthless the god could be. Talking and smiling to you in one sentence, and then slaughtering you in your own home in the next. And Oreli certainly was in his own home.. He took a step back as Wilbur turned to further inspect his house of dirt.

He could hear the god rambling on about “classic furniture” as he began to traverse the small amount of rooms he and his friend had built at the border of their world. He tried to pull himself back from the initial shock. This was it.

There were only two options once Wilbur had met you, only two results that could come from the encounter. Either you amused him enough to get him to leave, or you died. Or, in a rare case, he might honor you with a tool or request of some sort. Mainly, people died. But Oreli couldn’t have that.

No, Oreli needed to be rare, he needed to make a mark. He needed to catch Wilbur’s attention, to make Wilbur know more than just his name. He needed to be honored if he wanted a chance at making the god hear him out. To get justice, he needed to be brave. He opened his mouth.

Even as Wilbur was off talking in the next room, not but a squeak could make its way out of Oreli’s throat. It’d been so long since he talked to anyone. That wouldn’t work.. He leaned his weak and starving body against a wall of dirt, giving him an idea. He lifted his hand to the wall..

“Fancy,” Wilbur had just finished saying, coming back to turn his amused and bright gaze towards Oreli and the writing he’d managed to etch into his wall. Immediately he looked interested, coming closer to take a look at what Oreli had to say. It was a simple message.

_ wilbur. i challenge you to a duel because you kill’d endersaltz _

It was… not the best grammar, but it was hard to write when you’d been feeding off of corpses, dirt, and leftover water for the past couple of months..

Wilbur hummed, reading the message with a peculiar look of somewhat disgust on his face. “Challenge me to a duel?” he repeated, stepping back. “I don’t think you can-… you’re a mole.”

At those words, Oreli felt something in him catch aflame as he stood his ground and stared hard at the cursed being before him. He wanted, he had, to make Wilbur understand.

Wilbur must have noticed his expression, for then, his look of disgust changed to a smug look of amusement. Oreli’s plan had worked.

“Okay.”

And with that, he summoned a bow and a stack of arrows, throwing them at Oreli’s feet. Oreli was half caught off guard by the man’s sudden powers. Being able to create items at will. He really was just a god. But before he could revel in that true realization for too long, Wilbur had gone, floating back up through Oreli’s ceiling in that wicked way. Oreli gulped, only imagining what could happen next as he strapped the quiver of arrows onto his back.

He never imagined what’d it’d been like to be summoned. He never even thought he ever could. When a god beckoned you, he always assumed they’d make you get to the destination of their own accord. But not Wilbur apparently. Maybe because he knew, he knew what was in store for the citizens he called upon. Oreli wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth.

Within a few moments from when Wilbur had left, Oreli could feel pain shoot like a lightning bolt through his bones and veins, from his toes to the tips of his hair, as all of a sudden he was on the surface before the god. He collapsed, panting and moaning in pain and writhing on the floor, briefly wishing for something of a quick death.

“Right, I’m ready to-” Wilbur landed on his feet and turned to his writhing opponent. Oreli could barely look up to meet the god’s eyes as his body continued to be wracked with agony. But he could only assume the smile that was on the sick god’s face. It only lasted for a moment.

Eventually Oreli could feel his body again as warmth washed over him. He’d probably been healed. Just for the god to see him die again, no doubt. But he was given another chance. He wasn’t going to let it go to waste. He’d  _ promised _ .

He stood up, weakly clutching the bow in his hand. He felt strong, stronger than he’d ever felt before. Probably work of the sick god, but now it wasn’t just in his heart and soul. He would do it, he would finish his task and wipe that sick smirk off of the god’s face. He would. He  _ had to _ .

“Right,” Wilbur took a few steps back, readying his own bow with a sick smirk. “Let’s go.”

Oreli took up his own smirk, doing the same. Let’s go indeed.

Oreli fought hard, for his life, even. Each arrow that pierced his body made his mind scream out in agony and for mercy, but he wouldn’t stop loading his weapon and shooting out arrows of his own. He wouldn’t give up, not now and not ever.

Even as his health continued to diminish, even as it seemed like Wilbur would never die, no matter how much of his ammo had plunged into the surprisingly mortal god’s body, all Oreli had to do was conjure up the picture of Endersaltz in his mind, and he knew he could and would fight forever. But that wasn’t needed.

Eventually, Oreli shot one last time, piercing the god right between the eyes. The god stuttered and Oreli stilled, holding his breath.

With a breath, the god collapsed. And all was still.

For a second, Oreli thought he’d won. Well, he  _ did _ win, he had won! But the feeling was short lived as he felt an ethereal presence behind him. He turned.

The look on the revived god’s face was not a pleasant one. Oreli hadn’t ever seen Wilbur pissed, but Wilbur was  _ pissed _ . Even as he held a golden shovel out to the human.

“For you,” Wilbur mused, trying not to let the anger show in his voice. Oreli hesitated, eventually taking it from the god. “You did so well,” he continued, landing before him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Oreli stared at him. He knew what this gift was. He’d seen it before. Another sick mine game played with Wilbur’s soon to be victims. Giving them an honored gift before taking it, and their life, away. Oreli wasn’t going to fall for it. But at this point he was truly feared. He’d fought a god, and won. It was only a matter of time before Wilbur exploded at him. He could either accept his fate and do what was wanted, or…

“Go on,” Wilbur tilted his head, plastering a stiff smile onto his face. “Dig.”

Oreli had always told himself he’d go down fighting. He’d leave this world determined to hate this god if it was the last thing he did.

He threw the shovel at Wilbur’s feet.

Wilbur stared at it for a while, picking it up from the ground and facing the mortal again, his next words dipped in venom. “I think you misheard me,” he said slowly, tossing it back. “Go on.”

Oreli was too far now to give in to the god’s whims. But since he insisted..

Oreli dug a shallow hole, the presence of the god burning an aura into the top of his hair as he dug, and tossed the shovel into it. He turned back up to face the god, his mouth a thin line behind his mask. Screw digging. He began to create a mound of dirt for himself, the opposite of what the god had asked. He couldn’t help it, he smirked.

Once he was at the top, he looked down on the pitiful god, feeling nothing but power coursing through him. He could see the anger through Wilbur’s teeth and he crouched down to get a better look at the being.

“Jump,” Wilbur said simply. Oreli complied, letting his feet leave the ground a fraction of a second. Technically not doing anything wrong.

Wilbur shook his head, trying again, “Jump off.”

Oreli thought for a while, then pushed a small pile of dirt off of his mound, jumping off of it and onto the pile. Wilbur did want obedience, after all.

He was feeling proud of himself. That feeling immediately dissipated as the god flew up towards him, a dagger ready in his hand to slay the mortal. Oreli fell to his knees and tried not to let the fear show on his face as Wilbur raised the metal tool high above his head. He closed his eyes, waiting for the strike.

The silence of the moment rang in Oreli’s head before he heard the god talk again.

“No, no, you know what?” Wilbur stated, lowering the life and throwing it from this world. Oreli opened one eye, looking up at him. “Oreli, you’re fine. You can live, for now. I have other fish to fry.” And with that, he was flying off, immediately forgetting about Oreli’s pitiful existence.

Oreli felt… disgusted. Used, and small. How dare the god lose to him and refuse to acknowledge his feats. Treating him as if he was nothing despite the power he’d shown over the god. He climbed down from his mound, ready to follow along with his bow, but by then the god was gone. He’d missed his chance…

He’d thought he’d won but in reality all he’d done was amuse the god more. He hadn’t been defeated. He hadn’t won. He’d  _ lost _ . And now the god was off torturing some other fool. Oreli felt empty.. What else was there to do if such a god wouldn’t even give him the time of day. He sat on the dirt and stared up at the empty sky, wondering to himself.

\--

Oreli began to accept his fate as time went on. The world he lived in was cruel, but he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. Even if his friend was gone, he could live on. Endersaltz would have wanted him to. Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Despite the pain he still felt in his heart, Oreli knew he could and would continue to thrive. The whims of a false god meant nothing to him. Even as he set on his dirty couch, which hadn’t undergone a repair in months since Ender’s death, and clutched in his hand a weapon he’d managed to salvage from the corpse of a strong comrade, he felt somewhat content. Felt somewhat.. Okay. He could go up to the surface to look for food and shower. He could continue to build his house and make a life for himself. He could live. He was living. And he’d keep living. From now.. Until forever…

At least that was what he thought before Wilbur had appeared before him again, a giddy little smile of mischief placed on his face. Oreli felt his blood run cold as he hopped up onto the couch and tightened his grip on the sword. Of course life couldn’t ever be easy, not in this world.

Wilbur landed in front of him, taking a step back. Oreli almost couldn’t tell what he was going to do next before he watched a human being summoned before him, and immediately he felt sick to his stomach.

The human Wilbur had summoned looked like a skeleton. His flesh seemed to be hanging from his bones and his deep, sunken eyes looked like they hadn’t seen the sun, or life, in years. He clutched his own sword in his hand, but it trembled like an unbalanced leaf in the wind. Oreli almost couldn’t tell he was human, but something in his eyes made it clear to him.

Even still, the smile on the god’s face was sickening as he watched the shell of a man raise his sword above his head, and suddenly Oreli understood. Wilbur had done this. Wilbur had broken this man whom Oreli didn’t know. But had known. The mole that’d been in that small, confined cage that the god had made for him. He could tell. Once so young and full of life, trying to build a home for himself just like Oreli had, now so fragile and wanting. Wanting.. Something. Oreli could tell. Just one look into those eyes told him everything he needed to know, even as the man stepped closer, his jaw clenched.

This man wanted to be honored in the eyes of this god. He wanted to fulfil his purpose. He needed to kill for him.

Wilbur let out a muffled snort as the man hobbled toward Oreli with a purpose. Oreli knew what he had to do. The man took a swing at him.

It caught Oreli across the chest and he fell back, only to lunge forward at the character before him. With two harsh swings, the living corpse before him collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his wounds as the life inside of him finally shriveled and died. The look in his eyes didn’t change, he’d been dead all along. Oreli put a hand to his wound, wincing, but being satisfied with what he’d done.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the familiar, explosive laughter of the cruel god in his home. Wilbur doubled over, amusement falling from his form as he gasped at the sight in front of him. Oreli didn’t know what he felt in the moment. But then Wilbur started  _ clapping _ .

“We’ve found the king of the moles,” he said in between claps, smiling at Oreli even as the man in front of him continued to bleed from his chest wound. The god stepped around the dead husk of what was once a loyal citizen in front of him and approached Oreli. Oreli could only stare.

“I want you to finish the job for me,” Wilbur continued. “Better than anyone else.” He held out a hand to Oreli, glowing with the power of a command that Oreli could only assume was something truly horrible and despicable in every way. Wilbur smirked. “Clean this garden,” he said. “Shake my hand.”

Oreli stared. Stared at the god, stared at his hand, stared at the corpse in front of him, stared at the dirt around him, stared, even, at the blood he wore on the body he’d lived in for all that he knew to be his life. And he understood.

He wasn’t living. He’d never been alive. He’d never been anything. This.. this wasn’t life. This god wasn’t a god. This home wasn’t a home.

He’d lost so much, he’d been through so much. All the while believing that he could make it better, that through sheer will he could make a better life for himself and Endersaltz, that he could get revenge on the god who’d murdered his friend, that he could prove his worth and he could make it all better in the end. Because he was determined. And he’d stayed determined. But that wasn’t true.

There was no better life. There was nothing else to it. Nothing except him, this god, and death. No matter how determined he was, he’d never have anything more than just this. Just this dirty. Just this house. Just this god. He understood now.

What the man, the broken and empty man, had wanted more than anything was freedom. And Oreli had managed to give it to him. What Endersaltz had wanted was happiness, and  _ Wilbur _ had given it to them.

All Oreli wanted was to be better. And only one thing could give that to him.

He looked up at the smile on Wilbur’s face, sick, yet gentle, and shook his head. He took the sword in his hand, flipped it in his grasp, and plunged it into the space between his eyes.

And then.

He was better.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [sixty weeks since I saw vienna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063159) by [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/pseuds/WreakingHavok)




End file.
